Blame It On Santana
by ForestInTheMaking
Summary: Brittana. Santana has a had a rough night, and there's only one person she can call.  Rating may become T, who knows.  I do not own Glee, all rights belong to respective owners.   Set during 'Sexy', based on events in 'Blame It On The Alcohol'.
1. Chapter 1

Name: **Blame It On Santana**

Rating: K+

Chapter No.: Chapter 1

Characters: Santana Lopez, Will Schuster, Brittany Pierce

Status: In-Complete. I had written 3 more chapters, but my memory stick malfunctioned, and I am working on fixing it. If not, I'm not sure I'll continue, I feel a bit disheartend :/ Good reviews may change my mind ;)

* * *

><p>As Santana stumbled into the barely lit street, the cold air made her aware of the thin coating of sweat that covered her body. Her head felt numb, and she felt slightly unstable standing up. She leant against the brick wall, damp with rain, and reflected on the night so far. <em>Pretty average, <em>she thought. She had nights like these all the time, but tonight felt different somehow. She barely noticed the slight pain of the wall scraping the skin of her back through the thin fabric of her shirt as she slid down to the ground. _What the fuck do I do now? _She asked herself.

Her stomach was in turmoil, her breathing was fast and her heartbeat was pounding erratically. She thought back to Mr Schuster telling them all about alcohol poisoning. _Oh crap, _she thought as she contemplated whether or not she had it. She didn't know whether Mr Schuh had gone on to elaborate about the symptoms, because she had burst into tears. She had been thinking about Brittany all that day, and she had been weepy. But if he had given a lecture on the subject, she had missed it: every one of her senses had been wrapped up in the warm embrace of Brittany's body that followed her crying.

She seemed to recall him saying 400 people died every year from it. She was relieved. _I'm totally fine. _There had been at least 50 people in that club that had drank way more than she had. And then she realised why tonight felt different. Brittany wasn't here.

She and Brittany did everything together. She laughed internally. They really did do _everything _together. And Artie had no idea. _He's incredibly stupid, even for a boy. _Sam didn't have a clue either, but Santana put that down to his blonde Bieber hair and his trout DNA.

She was a mess.

She had danced with at least twenty different guys in that club. Even the alcohol levels in her blood and the thumping beat that filled her with adrenaline didn't change the fact that none of those guys held any attraction for her.

Twelve hours ago, she had envisioned tonight being completely different. She had intended on snuggling up to Brittany on her favourite couch and watching Sweet Valley High. Her mum would've been out, and their make out session could've lasted hours. She had even bought in some hot chocolate with the mini coloured marshmallows that Brittany loved so much. An act of such affection was highly unusual for Santana, and she felt pathetic now. Brittany had told her she was pregnant. It was a shame really, Miss Holiday's song – Do You Wanna Touch? – had really got her blood racing. She was in the mood for loving. But now, her plans were ruined, as well as the future of her preference. Santana's heart had sunk like an anchor, and her first reaction was to shout Brittany's secret to the first person that passed her: it was so fast it was practically a reflex.

It had got back to Artie so fast it was astonishing. She had hoped that they would break up, but it turned out that Brittany's endearing stupidity had once again supplied false information: she thought a nesting bird was to bring her a baby.

She breathed a sigh of longing at the memory of Brittany's innocence. She wanted her so bad; there was nothing she wanted more. Except possibly to be rich and/or famous.

This sudden longing filled her body, and in the cover of the semi-darkness, she allowed herself a few tears: it was a luxury she rarely let herself indulge in.

She stayed like that for about twenty minutes, sobbing her battered heart out. She didn't know who she was anymore. Why couldn't she be normal?

Of course, she was as "normal" as you could get in everyone else's eyes. She was a hot cheerleader. Normal. Except, she wasn't.

She was in love with her best friend… a girl.

She cried for about another five minutes, and then she fumbled in her pocket for her phone. She had to call Brittany.

_No, _she thought. _She doesn't want me, she wants Artie. _But as she withdrew her hand, the distinct edge of a piece of paper brushed against her palm, and she pulled it out.

It was the sobriety pledge form. And in the corner…

Mr Schuster's phone number.


	2. Chapter 2

Santana's vision was blurry, and it took six attempts to dial Mr Schuster's number correctly.

"Hello?" He had obviously been woken up by her call.

She sniffed. "Mr Schuster?" Her voice was broken and she sounded vulnerable.

"Santana?" He sounded shocked that she had called him.

"Yep." She said quietly.

"Are you alright?" He sounded genuinely worried about her. _He may be a total dork, but he really cares about us, _she thought.

"No, not really." Her voice was thick with tears, her throat tight.

There was a short silence. She looked down at the blue sheet, still clutched tightly in her hand. "You know the other day in glee club, when we signed those pledge forms, and you said if we ever… slipped up, that no matter where we were or what time it was, you'd come and get us?" She hoped he could understand her, she was bordering on hysterical, she was spluttering through her tears and her crying was making it hard to breathe.

"Where are you?" he asked seriously.

"The club down in East Lima Heights." She said, almost embarrassed.

"Oh, Santana." He sounded sympathetic and disappointed at the same time. He knew she didn't really live in Lima Heights, and that her dad was a doctor and they lived only on the outskirts. The clubs in Lima Heights were dangerous for a teenage girl, all by herself. "Which one?"

"Sub Lima."

"I'm coming. Stay there, okay?"

"Sure thing Mr Schuh."

She hung up, and let the rain wash over her face, washing away all the bad feeling. It didn't really work. Then she realised she'd have to tell him what had happened. She thought about how she'd explain herself. _Someone attacked me? No, he'll probably call the cops or something. _She considered loads of excuses, and before she could decide on one, she heard the distinctive sound of the dragging muffler, and seconds later he pulled up on the curb. He got out and ran over to her. She noted that he was wearing a vest.

He saw the look on her face, and said nothing. He just sat next to her, and put his arm around her. She surprised herself by resting her head on his shoulder and sobbing her heart out. The situation was bizarre, but it wasn't awkward. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt this comfortable – comfortable enough to cry in front of someone else anyway. Particularly Mr Schuster, who she had never really bonded with. _He did forgive me for totally trying to destroy the glee club all of last year though. _She had been doing it for Sue, everyone knew that, but it had still been her actions. And she was constantly insulting everyone. But now she found that the rain washed away all thought, but the pain remained. Her sobbing slowly turned to weeping, and her gasping for air became steady breathing, and she let the heat of Mr Schuster's body warm her through.


	3. Chapter 3

They had stayed like that for about fifteen minutes, and then Mr Schuster had got up and offered her his hand, which she took, and they walked over to his car. They were both soaked head to toe, their clothes clinging to their skin. They got into the car, and Santana instantly noticed the smell of fresh pine. It was soothing and relaxing, and she was soon able to control her breathing.

"Santana, did something happen?" She knew this question was inevitable, and she was extremely grateful to Mr Schuh for comforting her and allowing her to clear her mind before he posed the question.

"No, not really. I – I just..." she trailed off pathetically.

"It's okay. You don't have to explain. Where do want to go?" he asked softly.

"Just take me home." She couldn't bring herself to say please and seem more pathetic than she already did.

After several attempts at starting the car, Mr Schuster finally drove them away from the terrible night that she had endured. The radio had been on, but the drumming of the rain made it seem pointless, so it was turned off. The silence wasn't awkward though: neither of them expected the other to engage in a conversation, and Santana let the sound of the rain fill her ears. She caught sight of her relfection in the glass; she was a complete state. Hair drenched, eyes red and puffy with make up running down her face. Worst of all was the look on her face: helpless, vulnerable, and heartbroken.

It was disgusting.


	4. Chapter 4

They pulled up outside her house, and as the engine died, the only sound was the constant rain. Santana willed herself to look at Mr Schuster.

He was looking right at her, his eyes filled with caring concern, and… pain? Did it really hurt him to see her like this? They looked into each other's eyes, and to both of their surprise, she smiled and a small hiccup of a laugh escaped her lips. She leant across and hugged him. She didn't need to say thank you, the hug said everything she couldn't, and Mr Schuster understood that.

She got out of the car, and with one last look back at Mr Schuster, she turned back and walked to her door and let herself in. Pausing just inside the door, she heard nothing for a few seconds. Then the sound of an engine and the fading sound of a car driving away broke the silence.

It had been easy to feel better in the presence of someone else, but now she was all alone, she felt just as bad as she did before. She collapsed on the floor, crying, not bothering to stifle the sound, until her parents came rushing down the stairs.


End file.
